Cafe Arabica

Chapter Two (Stacey)

Sunset Port's draped in a foggy layer, just at the marine level. The sidewalks have yet to be shining in the sun but it's summer just the same. An early summer morning, when tourists haven't gotten up yet and other businesses are still closed waiting for the fog to part and the sun to come out. Though here, in Cafe Arabica I have the small wall heater blasting wearing a pair of skinny jeans and my light espresso colored sweater, with a Cafe Arabica apron thrown over it. With my long iced caramel macchiato colored hair pulled back into a messy bun, my family matched up our hair color with a coffee so far I'm iced caramel macchiato, Kate (my little sister's) hair is medium and wavy in espresso, while mom's hair is a long and dramatically wavy in mocha and dad's hair is short in Americano with a few waves in the front.

Though the fact that it's early and foggy only makes it perfect coffee weather, that pretty soon the jingle of the bells above the door will chime as surfers tired from catching barrels, runners from their early morning runs, and business people on their way to work will all stop in for a drink. Reggae's quietly playing in the background making me hum along with the words, making me imagine that I'm in Jamaica instead of a small beach town off the coast of Los Angeles. My body begs to travel, anywhere my suitcase is already in my closet just waiting to go. Bathing suits, puffer jackets, scarves, tank tops, sweaters, and graphic t-shirts just tell me where and I'll start packing. Cafe Arabica though is the place I go to escape, the coffee machines behind me in perfect array the smell of ground coffee filling up my lungs with black and white photos of how coffee's journey from the plant to your cup, the first photo is of growing and harvesting them all the way to grinding and brewing them. With dark wood tables for people to work on their laptops and meet up with friends and bean bags on the floor in a lounge area with a sofa, where study groups meet up or teenagers can be found relaxing. Then upfront by the counter, it's a thin slab of marble with a to-go counter up front where baristas would slide drinks across the table calling out orders. There's also a clear case of baked goods, such as cookies and scones, things that my little sister loves to bake acting as if she's on Top Chef or Great British Baking Show. Her dream's to take over Cafe Arabica and have it become a bakery instead of a coffee shop, which is fine with me her baked goods are delicious and though dad wants to keep Cafe Arabica open as a coffee shop for as long as possible he can't even help but eat most of the cookies for himself though he'd never admitted it. Besides coffee, we serve hot chocolates, teas, smoothies, and juices. Though our coffee gets the best rep.

Dad and mom are here a lot during the school year but once summer rolls around I know it's my shift and it's honestly the best part of summer for me, just being here watching the world go by.

The door jingles, interrupting my thoughts as a local surfer heads in his dirty blonde hair wet and salty, he must be in his late thirties. "Any good waves?" I ask as he looks at the menu, "ya just caught an epic barrel." He tells me and I nod. "So what do you want to celebrate it with?" I always ask how to talk to customers. "I'll have an Americano." He tells me and I nod before saying, "that's two dollars." He hands me the money before I head back to the machine and make it, my hands already memorizing what to do so that it's almost automatic before I hand the coffee back to him. I can't help but notice as the door jingles revealing Jagger. I space out as the surfer leaves before I see Jag head to the counter. For some reason, I always tense up whenever I see someone from school walk into the coffee shop as if my two worlds are colliding with my life at Sunset High and Cafe Arabica. Even intertwining them for a little bit is enough to make me taken off guard. Though I don't know that Jagger Sighn of all my fellow peers know who I am. I fit into the background, not wanting to stand out instead of just getting ushered from class to class like cattle preparing for the slaughterhouse. Not wanting to do anything too big for fear that I won't fit in, I get good grades though so I'm in all the honors and AP classes hoping for a scholarship next Spring. While he's the broken, rebellious, and good-looking skater boy with a rep and an ever-changing love life. He's wearing a pair of tan cargo pants and a grey sweatshirt. He has dark brown curly hair and what looks like a kind of bruised-up face, making me wonder if he went to the party down by the Point last night. Apparently, there were kegs and bonfires at a classic Sunset Port summer party. I didn't feel like going, Jade tried to get me to but she finally gave up telling me I never feel like going and that when I look back on my Highschool years and all I see is Honors Math and AP English won't be her fault. Sure enough though Jade went and now she's late for her shift, which leaves me alone in a coffee shop with Jagger Sighn of all people. Ugh, I hate Jade right now!

"I'll have a black coffee." He tells me and I nod, before saying "that'll be 2.70." He then gives me the crumpled-up dollar bills before I make him the coffee, starting to calm down as my hands go over the same familiar routine before I give it to him. "Need any aspirin with that?" I ask and he nods groggily. Before I pull out the bottle of aspirin I'm carrying in my apron pocket since it's that time of month not because I'm eagerly awaiting hungover teenagers from parties to order black coffee. "Thanks." He says taking two before drinking some of the coffee. "No problem," I tell him as he sits up by the counter. I'm betting he doesn't want to go home right now, that's probably the only reason why he's still here but I shrug it off before helping the next person in line. Five customers later, Jagger gets up from the counter and carries his skateboard with him out the door. "Bye Stace!" He says as he leaves and for a second it catches me off guard on how he actually knows my name but I just reply. "Bye Jag!" Without overthinking it. How is it possible that Jagger Sighn knows my name? Let alone remembered it?